


Take A Chance, Sweetheart

by cryptomoon, destimushi, LegendsofSnark, MaskofCognito, NadiaHart, robotsnchicks, SailorKamenRider, sternchencas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Chance Meetings, Cop Dean, Frottage, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Round Robin, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, The Princess Bride References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-03-09 14:52:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13483803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptomoon/pseuds/cryptomoon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/destimushi/pseuds/destimushi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegendsofSnark/pseuds/LegendsofSnark, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskofCognito/pseuds/MaskofCognito, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadiaHart/pseuds/NadiaHart, https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotsnchicks/pseuds/robotsnchicks, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorKamenRider/pseuds/SailorKamenRider, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternchencas/pseuds/sternchencas
Summary: This is not how Dean imagined his Sunday morning going.He turns down the alleyway, lungs burning as he chases the flailing figure a block ahead of him. The parcel in his hand is heavy, and he didn’t think to listen for ticking noises before grabbing it and running after the stranger who left it on a park bench. Not that terrorists use ticking bombs these days.In hindsight, if this is a bomb, Dean shouldn’t be running with it. Oh well.#Profoundnet Round Robin





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first ever #profoundbond Round Robin! What is a #profoundbond you say? Apart from the obvious eye fucking and shoulder rubbing between our favourite Hunter and Angel of the Lord, it's also the most awesome Discord server housing some of the best Destiel shippers around! Come [join us](http://discord.gg/GGbw2NP) for some shenanigans! 
> 
> I set the rating as Explicit because knowing the group of depraved souls writing for this, it's probably headed that way haha. More tags to come as each piece gets written and posted every Friday! The first chapter is inspired by a scene in the movie Playing It Cool. If you haven't seen it, go do that! It's adorable! 
> 
> First chapter by destimushi. Next up is SailorKamenRider!

This is not how Dean imagined his Sunday morning going.

He turns down the alleyway, lungs burning as he chases the flailing figure a block ahead of him. The parcel in his hand is heavy, and he didn’t think to listen for ticking noises before grabbing it and running after the stranger who left it on a park bench. Not that terrorists use ticking bombs these days.

In hindsight, if this is a bomb, Dean shouldn’t be running with it. Oh well.

The stranger—with his tanned trench coat fluttering behind him—turns down another alley, and Dean smiles. This is his turf; he’s patrolled this neighbourhood in daylight and under the cover of flickering street lamps. He knows where all the dead ends are, and Trench Coat is heading straight for one.

Bingo.

He slows down to catch his breath and makes a mental note to work on his cardio when he hits the gym next. When he rounds the next turn, Dean snorts and tries to hide his amusement behind a huff of breath as he catches up to the stranger. Who is desperately trying to climb the chain-link fence and failing miserably.

Dean taps the guy on the shoulder, then grabs his arm and spins him around. “Hey man, where d’you think you’re going?” He pulls out his badge and waves it in front of the stranger’s face. Even when he’s off duty, Dean can’t let something as suspicious as a dropped parcel go uninvestigated.

The stranger staggers and rights himself before looking up at Dean, and something cinches tight in Dean’s chest. A pair of glittering blue eyes stare at him with a hint of panic and fear. “Um, Officer, I did nothing wrong.” The man holds up both hands, palms facing Dean, and backs into the fence with a clang. He winces.

“You forget this?” Dean slaps the parcel wrapped in brown paper into the stranger’s outstretched hand and bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. This shouldn’t be so funny. A person in an oversized trench coat leaving strange parcels around screams fishy. Yet, looking at this man now—with his big blue eyes and his deer-in-headlights expression—Dean has a hard time picturing him as some hard criminal with an agenda.

Then again, no one looks like a murderer until they murder someone.

The stranger grips the package to his heaving chest and frowns. “It’s not illegal to leave parcels around.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot for the sky. Is this guy for real? “Um, dude, after nine-eleven? You can’t just do that shit anymore.”

Wide blue eyes get wider. “This is not a bomb. I am not interested in public chaos and mass murder.”

“Then what is it?” Dean crosses his arms and tries to ignore the heat flushing along his neck. It’s this goddamn weather and definitely not how endearing the stranger looks with his head tilted to the side, his expression an open book. Why did he wear a collared shirt in the heat of the summer?

“It’s…” Trench Coat clutches the parcel tighter and stares at the toes of his shoes. “It’s a book.”

“I’m sorry?”

“A book.” He looks up, eyes blazing with indignance and perhaps a little anger, as if daring Dean to mock him.  

Dean blinks. A book? He chased a guy for the better part of ten blocks over a book? On his day off no less? Christ on a cracker. “You fucking serious? Why?”

“It’s the greatest love story ever told,” he replies. “And I want to share it with the world.”

Oh boy. Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes, but his interest is piqued and the words slip out before he can check them at the door. “Which book?”

Trench Coat unties the string and unwraps the book with care. He holds the book out to Dean, blue eyes pinning Dean to the spot as his face splits into a smile that rivals that of the sun. “The Princess Bride, of course.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second round of the #profoundbond Round Robin! Head over the #profoundbond channel for more Destiel fun.
> 
> Sailorkamenrider here oicking up Destimushi's thread, hope you guys like it. Thanks to Hollyblue2 for looking over what I wrote.
> 
> Watch out next week as it's going to be Legendofsnark's turn!

“And?”

Dean shoots Sam an incredulous look. He just told his brother about his-run in with Trench Coat and only gets an a _nd_ ?

“Aren’t you going to sympathize with me a bit here?”

“Dean. The guy wasn’t doing anything illegal.”

“Thanks, D.A. Winchester.” Dean rolls his eyes.

“Why are you so hell-bent on finding him anyway?”

 

_~Earlier~_

_“Sorry partner, no matter how much you love Buttercup, I’m not letting you leave this here.”_

_“But!” Dean cuts him off with a shake of his head._

_“Just doing my job, mister. Peace and order. We can’t have you starting some sort of a…” Dean gestures around with his hand._

_“…thing.” Trench Coat sighs lowering his head. Dean tries not to laugh as he is reminded of a puppy who just got scolded._

_“Come on man, why don’t I escort you to your car?And then let’s forget about  this misunderstanding.” He casually raises his hand to give Trench Coat a friendly pat on the shoulder, but to his astonishment, defiant blue eyes meets him._

_“As you wish.”_

_With that, Trench Coat grabs the book from his hand, brushes past him and storms off, leaving Dean momentarily glued on the spot._

~o~

 

Sam laughs.

“And that’s not the end of it. I tail him towards the bus stop and look what I found there.” Dean raises the book, Sam laughs harder.

“You got sassed by a guy in a coat, that’s why you’re hunting him? Dean, you’ve met worse!” It’s true, but somehow, Trench Coat had managed to push all the wrong buttons at the same time, and that heightens the loathing already simmering in his chest.

“So, what’re you going to do? Have his mug sketched and roll out an APB?”

“Might. But before that, I’m going to head over the library and the second-hand book stores around town, see if anyone remembers our guy.”

“Dude, he’s  _your_ guy.” Sam walks off even before Dean could throw the book at him.

~o~

 

Unfortunately, despite his best efforts, the identity of Trench Coat eludes him. He’s been to libraries and book stores, but no one can remember such a person, which strikes Dean as weird, because surely anyone would remember such striking eyes, that unusually deep voice, or just the oversized coat, but no. No one’s seen the man. 

By Friday, he’s close to actually sending out an APB about the guy, but without an actual case, there’s no way he can push through. Maybe if he dusts the book for prints and run it in the system?

_Dammit_ _Winchester_. He needs to stop thinking about the guy. For all he knows, he’s a weirdo from several towns over. He’s mostly just thankful he didn’t pick up a bomb. 

When he finally clocks out, he decides to head over the newly opened bakery near the police station. The place serves a wide selection of pies, and that’s the fix he needs right now. The bell jingle as he opens the door, and a cheery young man greets him.

“Hello, Officer.”

“Hiya, Sam” The young man, named Samandriel mans the shop. Dean likes him, reminds him of a younger, less cheeky version of his brother

Dean walks over the display counter expecting his favourite variants, but there isn’t any to be seen.

“Sorry, Mr. Winchester, sir, we’re fresh out of pie.” Samandriel runs behind the counter, bending down to look at Dean from between cakes.

“All of them?”

“Well…”

“Thanks, Hannah. I apologize for the short notice. Yes, these will do.”

Dean spins around, ears perking at the sound of the familiar voice. He takes large strides towards the cash register where Trench Coat stands. Dean can smell the scent of pie wafting from the boxes on the counter, and he just can’t believe this man has to rob him of pie.

“Hey, buddy.” He secretly indulges at the momentary look of surprise on Trench Coat’s face.

“Hello, Officer.” 

“You’re not planning on leaving those around too, are you?” Dean nods at the boxes.

“Of course not, Officer. I’d personally give them away.” Trench Coat moves closer to him.

Fuck, those eyes. 

“Clarence! Got the pies? Let’s go.”

A woman with dark hair, wearing blue scrubs, runs towards  _Clarence_ and pulls at the tan coat.  Clarence looks away and grabs his purchases before unceremoniously turning his back on Dean Winchester. That’s when Dean realizes they’d been having a staring contest for a good deal of what? Two minutes? Dean follows them and watches as the two get in a 1978 Continental.

“Figures why he didn’t bring a car with him that day. That thing screams “creepy ass pimp” Where’d he even get that?!” he mutters as the car drive away.

Dean notes the license plate. He’s got a car and he’s got a name. Looks like he just got his lucky break.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit nervous about this chapter but hey, it's finally here!!! 
> 
> Next up is Envydean (Hollyblue2)

Dean sits at his desk the next morning, his cup of coffee sits on front of him as he stares at the computer screen in front of him. A smirk crosses his lips, he's got him. 

 

He ran the tags the moment he entered the precinct that morning, he didn’t even say  hello to Lisa and Henrickson or share the latest gossip held by a few of the new officers. Sometimes he wonders if he really works in a police station or has somehow been transported back to high school with the amount of 'guess who's sleeping with who’ that goes around. 

 

“What's got you in a good mood today, brother?” Benny asks. He plops down on Dean's desk, looking over and catching sight of the computer screen. 

 

“This guy, he's been getting to me and I got his license plate and a name. I got my guy.” 

 

“What did he do exactly?” 

 

Dean writes down the information, logging off and shutting the computer down. “Nothing too important but I need to speak with the guy. You seen Charlie?” 

 

Benny hops down from the desk. “I seen her back in the break room talking with that new girl Dorothy. I don't know if she's still back there though.” 

 

Dean stands up quickly, pushing the piece of paper into pocket of his pants and heads towards the break room. The door is already open and he can see Charlie inside, smiling and laughing with Dorothy. 

 

Dean knocks, gaining their attention. 

 

“We're heading out.” Dean states with a grin. He smiles at Dorothy, “Hi. It's Dorothy, right?” 

 

The brunette smiles. “Yeah. Hi. Uh?” 

 

“Dean. Charlie's-” 

 

“Partner. Right?” 

 

Dean nods. “She's been talking about me, eh?” 

 

Charlie walks and stands next to Dean, “Let's go. Didn't you say we need to head out?” 

 

“What? I can't stay for awhile and speak with your new friend here?” 

 

Charlie grabs Dean's arm and pulls him out of the room. 

 

“See you later, Dorothy!” Dean shouts over his shoulder, laughing at Charlie along the way. 

 

“You have a crush and it's- wow, never thought I'd see the day that you fell in love with someone.” 

 

Charlie rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Where we heading to?” 

 

Dean pulls the paper out of his pocket and hands it to Charlie. She grabs it, stares for a few moments before handing it back. 

 

“What did this guy do? Robbery? Theft? What am I walking into with you, Dean?” 

 

“Trust me, Charlie. It's nothing bad. Just, I need to know that you've got my back when we go in there.” 

 

“Always. You're my partner, my friend. I got you, Dean.” 

 

Dean smiles. Hopefully Charlie still feels the same after they meet up with the guy. 

 

Castiel Novak. 

 

Listening to the name Dean can see where Clarence came from, however it isn’t important right now. Right now, he needs to talk with the guy, find some answers and see where all of this is going to end up. 

 

For his  _ health _ , he needs this. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter!!
> 
>  
> 
> This is unbeta'd, however as soon as it does get edited, I'll edit this with the changes!

Castiel’s house is quaint. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting but vibrant flowers lining the pathway up to a faded blue, cladded house was not it. He should have guessed by the address that he lived in the suburbs but it didn’t really cross his mind to check.

“Dude’s got a nice house. What did he do again?”

“Suspicious... stuff,” Dean comments, not really concentrating on what Charlie was asking.

“Dean?” Dean hears her say, but he doesn’t answer. He has to work out what he’s going to say. He’s got a vaguely specific idea that may or may not work. “Dean!” Charlie whacks him on the shoulder and Dean turns to her sharply.

“What?”

“Stop gawking and go knock on the guys door, jobs not gonna get done if you don’t talk to the guy.”

“Fine.”

Just as Dean’s about to existing the police car, he hears Charlie again, “And Dean?” Dean turns to her, eye brow raised. “You can’t arrest the guy for _suspicious stuff_ , that’s not how it works.”

“I know that!” Dean scoffs and exits the squad car and heads up the neatly kept pathway.

Taking the two steps up to the wrap around porch, Dean hesitates before he knocks on the door. He adjusts his blue shirt and his cap and takes a deep breath. He can do this. He is Officer Dean Winchester, son of the famed police Sergeant John Winchester. He knows _exactly_ what he’s doing.

Dean does not have a clue what he’s doing. He has no reason to be here. He already found that the guy was just distributing books and though buying all the pies _should_ be a criminal offence, it’s not. So, if anyone is in the wrong, it’s him using police resources to chase after a guy because he’s hot? Dean grumbles to himself and decides this is a really, really stupid idea.

“Can I help you, Officers?”

_Fuck_.

“I haven’t handed out any more books, if that’s what you’re here for.”

Dean stares. Blank faced, unable to utter a word.

Castiel is no longer wearing his trenchcoat and cheap suit underneath, he’s wearing sweatpants and a burgundy hoodie with nothing underneath it. It’s unzipped enough for him to see his smooth chest.

Dean needs to get his head back to what he’s supposed to be doing—weaselling his way out of this awkward situation—instead he’s ogling and Castiel has, no doubt, noticed.

“Hi, Officer Bradbury,” Dean watches as she extends a hand out. “I think the lovely Officer Winchester here, came to ask you a question?” She turns to Dean, nudging him and giving him a wink when Dean’s finally clicks back into the present time.

“Yeah, I—”

“He wants to know if you’re free on Friday night, around eight,”

“Charlie!”

“I am free,”

Everybody stops talking and Dean’s eyes widen at Castiel.

“You’re serious?”

“I am not joking,” Castiel smiles and Dean grins too. He hears Charlie mumbling about her _work being done_ before she skitters off back to the squad car.

“Um, so there’s a bar, The Roadhouse, wanna meet me there at 8pm tomorrow?”

“As you wish,”

“Dude’s you’ve got to stop with The Princes Bride quotes, they’re—"

“Turning you on? I’ve noticed.” Dean blushes furiously, taking off his cap to hide his face.

“Oh my God, Cas!”

Dean backs down the steps, sliding his cap back on and hoping his blush has dissipated and says goodbye. Castiel waves back and Dean’s heart is beating fast and furiously in his chest.

Jumping back into the driver’s seat, Dean starts the engine.

“So?”

“I have a date.” Dean explains and Charlie grins.

“What did he say to you that made you blush so hard?”

“ _As you wish_ ,”

“Nerds!”

“You can’t talk _hermionesgirlfriend98_ ,”

“Mawage.” Charlie starts in her best impression of the Impressive Clergyman, “Mawage is wot bwings us togeder tooday.” She laughs hysterically but carries on, “Mawage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam.” Charlie laughs and Dean tries to keep his focus on driving back to the station, he’s pretty sure he can find a storeroom to lock Charlie in to keep her quiet.

“I’ve only just met the guy, gimme a break!”

“Alright, lover boy. I can’t believe you tracked him down to ask him out.” She says disbelievingly.

“It wasn’t exactly my plan,” He explains.

“What _was_ your plan?” she’s asks, incredulous.

Dean is already halfway through digging his grave, he might as well go all out. “I didn’t really have one.”

“You’re ridiculous,”

“Just get out the car.”

*

Since Dean can’t actually lock Charlie in the broom cupboard, he makes her promise not to tell anyone about it. Dean feels rattled for the rest of the day, luckily their Chief doesn’t seem to notice anything awry and doesn’t make them go out on patrol again. Instead, Dean buries himself in paperwork. Normally, it’s a thing he absolutely loathes to do but it’s something to keep his mind from thinking about his date tomorrow night.

He’s excited, sure, but also nervous because he wasn’t exactly expecting a date out of his trip to Castiel’s house, or to be called out on his love for The Princess Bride. Friday was going to be the longest day in existence and having Charlie in the squad car all day with him too, no doubt talking his ear off, will probably make it worse. He loves Charlie, she’s his partner and his best friend—she was also a gigantic geek who could talk all day about the game she played last night. He will live, he hopes, to see out his Friday and then join Castiel at the bar for a few drinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spnhell is up next! I can't wait! :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas go on their first date :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eek I am so excited to have been a part of this! Thank you to Jenny (HollyBlue2) for leaving me with such a good set up for this chapter, and special thanks to maskofcognito for the beta (sorry but I couldn't find a way to change that long sentence so I just left it, ha!) :D 
> 
> my twin NadiaHart is up next so stay tuned for her chapter because I already know it's gonna be a great one!

Dean wipes his hands on his jeans as he approaches the entrance to the Roadhouse, nerves making them clammy.    
  
He’s arrived early on purpose, much to Sam’s endless amusement, but he needs a moment to center himself. Meeting Ellen’s gaze across the bar, he instantly feels himself relaxing a notch, the security of the familiar setting putting him at ease.   
  
He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous; Castiel is just a guy, and a weird guy at that. But there’s something about him that’s captivated Dean since the first time they’d locked eyes, standing in that alley-way with Castiel’s trench coat flapping in the wind, and Dean’s hands clenched around a book that he would never have imagined was going to come back and bite him in the ass.   
  
Still, it got him this date, so he supposes he has that to be thankful for.    
  
Dean orders a beer, eternally grateful when Ellen simply hands it to him with a nod and a wave of her hand when he tries to pay, no questions asked. Evidently, he must look as nervous as he feels. He stands there, agitated, eyes flicking repeatedly to the door. He’s so keyed up, that when he feels a light touch to his elbow, and a murmured “Hello, Dean,” purred right into his ear, he almost spits his drink out across the bar.   


“Jesus Christ, Cas!” Dean yells, flinching away in surprise. “Warn a guy would you,” he grumbles before turning in his seat to find Castiel gazing back at him with a hurt look on his face.    
  
“My apologies, Dean. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, eyes downcast, and a part of Dean’s heart instantly breaks for him.  _ Dammit _ . He’s got the hurt puppy look down even better than Sam does.    
  
Dean lets out a breath in a whoosh, cuffing Castiel on the shoulder and pulling him back in towards him. “It’s fine, dude. You just made me jump. I’m glad you’re here though. Part of me—er… well. Part of me thought you wouldn’t show.”    
  
Castiel looks up at that, and yep, his eyes are still just as mesmerising as Dean remembers.    
  
“I said I’d be here, so I’m here,” he replies. He looks so confused by even the mere notion of having told a lie that Dean has to chuckle softly.    
  
“I know, Cas. I know,” Dean says, turning away and leaning across the bar to try and catch Ellen’s attention. “What’cha drinking, anyway?”    
  
Dean turns back to find Castiel slowly mouthing the word ‘Cas’ to himself, a look of wonder on his face. Dean’s gaze softens, and he nudges the man gently with his hip.    
  
“Oh… I’ll just have a beer, please.”    
  
They settle at a table once they’ve got their drinks. Dean relaxes into his side of the booth, leaning with his arms spread along the back, and his eyes widen as he watches Cas’ gaze rake over his body as though mentally undressing him. 

He feels a stir of want in his gut, but he pushes it away rapidly.  _ Now is not the time or place for that. _   
  
“So, Cas,” Dean starts, smiling fondly as Cas’ eyes light up at the nickname, “what is it that you do for a living? You know, besides leaving books lying around like some kind of literary vigilante.”    
  
“I’m a nurse,” Cas replies. A challenge sparks in his eyes as though he’s expecting a rebuttal, but Dean simply nods in a gesture for him to continue. “I work in the pediatric ward. When you saw me in the bakery the other day, I was buying all those pies for the children. It can be sad in the ward sometimes, so Meg and I like to try and provide treats when we can.”    
  
He looks away, cheeks flushed as though he’s  _ embarrassed _ by this confession. Dean reaches a hand across the table, wrapping his fingers around Cas’ and drawing their eyes back together.    
  
“Way to make me feel like an ass, man.” Dean says it with a grin to show Cas that he’s joking, and Cas’ answering smile lights the room.    
  
They chat like old friends after that, Dean learning that Cas had begun the habit of leaving books lying around as a leftover from his childhood. When he was a boy his parents hadn’t had much money, and he’d relied on the local library to get books and entertainment. He’d been dismayed when he’d arrived in this town to find the local library closed. So, he’d taken to just leaving copies of his favourite books on benches in public places, hoping others would find them and be thankful.    
  
With every word that comes out of Cas’ mouth, Dean finds himself falling more and more. He can’t believe how badly he’d misjudged him—this gentle man who talks about how he loves bees and flowers, who’s eyes crinkle with laughter at Dean’s stories of his and Sam’s youth.    
  
Despite the general nature of their conversation, there’s still an edge of flirtation to it all. A hint of smirk and snark lie in every comment. Their feet nudge against each other under the table, an accident at first that becomes a deliberate tangling as the night wears on.    
  
It takes Dean almost an hour to realise he and Cas are still holding hands across the table, fingers intertwined.    
  
Cas’ face is animated as he talks, his other hand gesticulating wildly. Dean leans back—a flush on his face that’s only partly from the beer—and squeezes Cas’ hand gently, grinning when he feels it tighten in return.    
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A challenge Issued, a challenge accepted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **My turn** _*rubs hands together menacingly*_ So, this challenge was both really fun and _really_ hard. Any of my regular readers will know that I'm a wordy bitch, so keeping my chapter under 1k was _such a challenge_ especially when SPNHELL had given me such a delicious place to start up. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy my installment. I am a big princess bride fan and I think that will be apparent in my chapter. Stay tuned for [@Sternchencas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sternchencas/profile) who is the next author in line. I know they will do a great job, but in the meantime click the link and check out their other work.

“Inconceivable!” Dean laughs, and Cas can’t help but smile at him. Dean laughs with his whole body: head tipping back, eyes closing, hand slapping down against the sturdy wood of the booth table. “I will never believe you know how to fence.”

“What! Why not?” Cas demands, trying to keep his tone incredulous but failing miserably. He simply could not believe his luck. In a town so small it didn’t even have a library anymore, Cas never thought he’d find someone like Dean. Usually, small communities like this one not only have backwater attitudes but men so far in the closet they are still sporting bell bottoms. “I’ll have you know that I ranked third in the regional fencing competition for all of Haven Valley.” Under the table Cas pinches his thigh hard, the twinge ensuring that–– _ no _ ––this wasn’t a really wonderful dream. “I got started through an outreach program my church offered. My family wasn’t the most well off, but my Gran still wanted us to be  _ 'cultured' _ . I even got my college scholarship because of Fencing.” 

“Cas, first of all, no one uses air quotes. And second, there’s no way I’m going to believe that you’re a fencer. I mean, that’s just so random! You’re going to have to show me.” 

“Fine!” Cas counters, his smile spreading as Dean blinks those ridiculously green eyes at him. Dean’s look of disbelief quickly melts into one of determination as he raises his hand and signals for their waitress.

“Jo!” Dean offers the pretty blond a stunning smile. “We’re getting out of here. Can you grab me the check?”

Cocking her hip out the waitress flips through her pad. “Mom says it’s on the house.”

“Inconceivable…” Dean mutters like it’s some secret inside joke between the two of them as he side-eyes Cas and causes him to burst out laughing.

As Cas grabs his coat, Dean skirts the bar propping himself up on the counter to peck a kiss on the cheek of an older woman. Cas takes a moment to appreciate the way Dean’s jeans hug his perky backside and the ease with which he lifts himself, palms braced against the bartop, to reach the stern but smiling woman.His gaze travels up Dean's legs––slightly bowed and ridiculously attentive––and he knows he's caught when he looks up to find Dean smirking at him.

Clearing his throat, Cas motions toward the door. Dean gives him a cheeky wink as he heads out into the night, and Cas knows he’s in trouble. No one has shaken him up like this in a long time. The swarm of butterflies in his stomach kicks up as he follows Dean’s slow swagger out into the parking lot.

Only a few cars sit out in the moonlight. The crisp evening air wraps around Cas as he watches Dean stroll towards the small forest that lines the gravel parking lot.  After a few minutes of searching, he returns with a long thin tree branch.

“Ok, Cas. Time to put your money where your mouth is,” Dean challenges as he hands Cas the branch. 

“Right,” Cas says, stripping out of his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. “Try not to swoon, Madame.” He drolls, rolling his shoulders back and drawing a slow breath. 

He slips into First-Position, the stick held rigidly at his side, feet connected at the heel to form a right angle. With a snap of his arm, he moves to Salute. His “sword” raising out in front of him until he holds it parallel to the ground. Then he flows fluidly into the En-Gaurd position; knees bent, feet shoulder-width apart, sword tip pointing slightly up. 

With the added grace and composure from years of practice and competition, Castiel moves through his solo practice routine: Lunge, Attack, Cut, In-Quartata, Extension, Parry, Cut, Lunge, Flick. His feet move as though they are planted firmly on the mats of his high school fencing arena and not cutting through the gravel of the Roadhouse’s parking lot. The motions are easy to remember, like coming home, and for a moment Cas loses himself in the steady rhythm of the stick in his grasp and his feet on the ground. 

“Woah.” Dean’s slightly breathless voice snaps Cas out of his rhythm. He stands from his most recent Lunge, body warm with the flush of exertion, and an apology on the tip of his tongue when Dean goes on, “My very own Dread Pirate Roberts.” he says with a playful, almost shy smile, his eyes wide, mystified, a flattering blush highlighting his cheekbones. 

Castiel has no idea how to respond. The swarm of butterflies springs to life in his stomach. He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry, and he can’t hold Dean’s gaze. He drops his eyes as he digs his toe into the gravel, tapping the willowy stick against his leg. If he’s the Dread Pirate Roberts that would make Dean his Buttercup.

“Yeah.” Dean laughs “I guess it does.” 

His head snaps up, and his expression must be conveying some of the horror he feels at having said that out loud. Dean closes the distance between them. The confident smirk he now wears makes his already handsome features even more alluring under the clear blue glow of the moonlight. 

“Wanna get out of here?” Dean asks, voice soft and low like the purr of a great cat on the hunt. He smells like Old Spice, and clean laundry and Cas wants to melt against him.

“Yes,” he responds, breathless and so ready to be Dean’s prey.

Dean pulls him in, their bodies colliding together and whispers “Why don’t we head back to your place and you can show me how you handle your sword.”

Cas can’t help but laugh “It’s a Sabre, and I’m sure I’ve got a few moves that will leave you speechless.

“Inconceivable.” Dean challenges, mirth in his tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you go. I hope you enjoyed this, I am not above begging for your thoughts soooo.... _(gently pokes the comment box)_ Comments, and Kudos activate my praise kink.
> 
> None of this would have been possible without my [@ProfoundBond Discord](https://discord.gg/dPjdRtF) family. I'm so thankful for you, each and every day.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Nadia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/NadiaHart/pseuds/NadiaHart) gave me such a great setup, and I tried to make the best of it. I hope people will like it and not kill me xD

Castiel can’t believe what’s happening to him. He's holding his makeshift sword, somehow unable to throw it away, and Dean is holding Castiel’s other hand. Dean is talking about his favorite movies and books, but Castiel has a hard time concentrating on the words.

While they walk, Castiel feels the warmth radiating from Dean, their shoulders bumping once in a while, and Dean’s smooth voice travels low through the night, his words only meant for Castiel. He has to keep himself from staring at Dean’s plush lips when he speaks and Castiel fears to get lost in Dean’s eyes whenever a passing street lamp gives him the gift of lighting up that sparkling green.

“I have to admit, there’s another book I like a lot. And the movies, I guess,” Dean says, the words bringing Castiel back to reality.

“What is it?” Castiel asks.

Dean watches his own feet, embarrassed by the confession. “Pride and Prejudice,” he whispers, waiting for Castiel to make fun of him.

Castiel smiles instead, already going over some lines from the movie in his head. He stops so he can face Dean and delivers his favorite one. “I would have to tell you, you bewitched me body and soul,” he quotes.

The line goes on with ‘and I love and love and love you,’ but he doesn’t dare to say that.

There’s a good chance that Dean knows the words. He’s smiling, too, but it’s not that daring, flirtatious smile he gave Castiel all evening. It’s soft and warm. Just the expression makes Castiel’s knees go weak, and it gets worse when Dean quotes the movie as well.

“There are no other words which could give me greater pleasure,” he says, his voice washing over Castiel like a warm summer’s breeze. 

Castiel knows that Dean skipped a line as well, but what he says translates to ‘there’s nothing more we need to say.’ And in the movie that’s the part where they kiss.

They are still holding hands, and Dean slightly tugs at Castiel’s. His heart beats faster with every inch they get closer, and when Dean leans in to bring their faces together, it stops. 

It could be the perfect moment if it weren’t for the car driving by, honking, with a man screaming at them out of the open window. “This is a street, you fucking idiots!”

Dean and Cas both jump at the sudden noise, and Dean turns around, watching the back of the car. “What an asshole,” he grunts, “I didn’t get the license plate. He’d be in for a fun night at the station.”

“He’s right, though,” Castiel points out. “We are in the middle of the road.”

“Let’s go then,” Dean says, slightly tugging at Cas again and they walk in silence to enjoy the night. 

When they reach Castiel’s home, he has butterflies in his stomach again. Considering what just happened out in the open, Castiel wonders what they might do when they’re alone. 

“Castiel, my love, there you are!” A voice cuts through the silence, making the hairs on Castiel’s neck stand up. 

Somebody steps out of the dark into their path and Castiel lets go of Dean’s hand. “Luke?” he whispers, and before he gets a chance to say anything else, the other man hugs him tight before wrapping a possessive arm around his shoulders. 

“Who’s your friend?” Luke says, and Castiel watches in shock how Dean’s whole composure chances. 

“No one of consequence,” he says with a guarded voice, and without even looking at Castiel he turns around and walks away.

 

* * *

Castiel takes a deep breath before ringing the doorbell and hopes that he remembers the words he practiced all day. 

Dean opens the door and stares at him like he wants to strangle him. “How the hell do you know where I live?!” 

“Charlie,” Castiel says. “Please, Dean, let me explain what happened,” he adds, afraid that Dean might slam the door in his face.

Dean leans against the doorframe with crossed arms and just watches him. Castiel thinks back to his prepared speech and sputters out the words. “The man was Luke Malo. Two years ago we went on three dates before I told him it didn’t work out for me. Since then he’s been showing up again and again. I even moved twice now to get away. I thought it worked until he showed up again today.”

Without warning, Dean grabs Castiel by his coat and pulls him into the apartment. He checks both ends of the corridor before closing the door and turning to Castiel. 

“Your stalker shows up, and you let me walk away instead of telling him that I’m a cop?” Dean grunts. “You better stay here tonight.”

“What?” Cas asks confused. “This isn’t  _ Criminal Minds _ , Dean.”

“Yeah, but I know the statistics, and this guy might snap. It’s dangerous.” Dean catches Cas’ pissed off expression and adds, “I can’t force you to stay, but I’d feel better if you did. And tomorrow we can go to the station and file a report.”

Castiel has to admit that Luke has a temper. And it seems he’s been following Castiel all this time and decides to show up right when Castiel is with somebody else.

With a sigh, Castiel gives in. “Fine, I’ll take the couch.”

“Yeah, that won’t work,” Dean says, running a hand over his neck. “I don’t have a couch. When I moved in my friends gave me two chairs. You know, like Joey and Chandler from  _ Friends _ ?”

When Castiel doesn’t respond Dean shrugs. “Hey, we’re grown-ups. We can share a bed, right?”

“Right,” Castiel says with butterflies in his stomach.

Ten minutes later Castiel finds himself in Dean’s bed, wearing his pajamas. He turns to Dean, his voice low. “Thank you for doing this.”

“It’s fine,” Dean says, clearly trying to play it cool. “Just try and get some sleep.”

Castiel sinks deeper into his pillow, engulfed in Dean’s scent. “As you wish.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up is [cryptomoon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptomoon/pseuds/cryptomoon), so anything can happen. Stay tuned! :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out! Next time we do this we'll make sure that we assign fest mods a week where they're _not_ handling claims at the same time!
> 
> Thanks a ton to [Mal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marleygoat) for the last minute beta. You're amazing and your suggestions made this chapter so much better!
> 
> Haha! Well, I hope this was worth the wait!

Dean drifts into consciousness slowly. His bed feels especially soft and cozy this morning. He rubs his feet together under the blankets and snuggles his face into his pillow, humming contentedly. He is  _ so  _ warm and his pillow smells really nice, like, way nicer than normal. 

God, he hasn’t slept this well in probably close to ten years. 

“Dean,” a gravelly voice says from behind his ear. He can feel a strong arm tighten around his middle. “It’s too early. Go back to sleep.”

Cas nuzzles his nose into Dean’s hair and pulls his knees up behind Dean’s. 

He cracks an eye open to peek at his alarm clock on the nightstand. It’s nearly ten o’clock in the morning. Somehow he’s is not surprised at all that Cas isn’t much of a morning person. 

Right. Cas. The whole stalker thing.

It’s Dean’s day off, but they’re supposed to be going down to the station to put in a report about Luke the Super Creeper. Cas wasn’t staying here as his boyfriend. He was here because his crazy ex showed up at his house yesterday. 

“Hey, Cas, man, we should head down to the--” 

Cas growls into the back of Dean’s neck, “No.” He drags his stubbled cheek up the back of Dean’s neck making goosebumps prickle along his freckles skin and his toes curl.

So, Dean has already learned two things so far today: Cas isn’t a morning person and he’s an aggressively grumpy cuddler. Dean chuckles. He can definitely roll with that. He wriggles away slightly and turns in Cas’s arms so their faces are inches apart on Dean’s favorite pillow. 

Cas’s eyes are closed and he has a small frown and furrowed brows. His normal five o’ clock shadow has grown in a fair amount overnight. His hair is an absolute disaster and it makes Dean grin. Damn, he is beautiful.

Dean reaches up and scratches his fingernails through the scruff on Cas’s cheek tipping his head forward to kiss between his eyebrows. “Come on, grumpy. I’ll make you coffee.” 

Cas groans and finally cracks open his eyes to squint at Dean. “I don’t want coffee.” He ducks his head down to hide his face against Dean’s collar bone and wiggles closer, sliding his knee between Dean’s. 

“Oh yeah?” He kisses the top of Cas’s head. “Not much of a morning person, huh?”

Cas huffs a breath against Dean’s chest and squints up at him. “Not when I’m this warm and comfortable in the bed of the most beautiful man I have ever seen, no.”

Dean can feel the tips of his ears heat up. “Most beautiful.. uh...?” he clears his throat, “I.. uh… that’s… um, well. Hate to break it to ya buddy but the owner of said bed is yours truly and, uh, that--”

“Don’t be stupid, Dean. It doesn’t suit you.” Cas glares up at Dean for a moment before catching his lips in a soft kiss, his long fingers sliding up Dean’s neck to cup the base of his skull.

Dean’s breath catches in his chest and it takes him a second to get with the program and tilt his head slightly to deepen the kiss, tracing his tongue along Cas’s lower lip. 

It’s probably not the most passionate, the most pure kiss to have happened since the invention of the kiss. They both had stale morning breath and it is slightly clumsy, but the way Cas arches his back and hums low in his chest has Dean’s ears ringing. As far as Dean is concerned it leaves all the others in the dust. 

Cas presses his fingertips gently behind Dean’s ears, thumbs rubbing circles at the hinges of his jaw. He pulls back slightly and leaves a soft kiss at the corner of Dean’s mouth before moving slowly down the side of his neck. 

Dean groans and lets his head drop back against the pillow. “Y’know,” he gasps, “this wasn’t what I had in mind when I asked you to stay here last night.”

Cas lifts his head and peers at Dean with a raised eyebrow, “I know that. Would you like to stop?” 

“Oh, hell no.” Dean hitches his knee further up and presses his hard cock against Cas’s leg. “Stopping is the last thing on my mind.”

Cas hums and nods seriously. “Good.” He smirks and rolls them so Dean is flat on his back with Cas pressed between his legs. “I will admit I would have been disappointed.” 

Dean groans and lets out a shuddering breath, his eyes glued to Cas’s playful grin. He must have been saving up some seriously good karma, because holy shit, that is the hottest thing he has ever seen. 

He hooks one hand around the back of Cas’s neck to pull him down into a kiss and cups Cas through the thin material of his borrowed pants. He is thick and hot and heavy and the material is slightly wet. The feel of it makes a molten wave of pure  _ want _ roll through Dean from his toes to his fingertips. He gasps and sucks Cas’s bottom lip into his mouth as he shoves their pajamas down to get them both into his hand. 

Cas breaks the kiss to bite at Dean’s jaw and tangle his fingers with Dean’s. Dean presses their foreheads together and peers down at their joined hands. A shiver jolts up his spine at the sight and his dick gives a hard twitch. “Fuck. Uh, the nightstand.” He flails his hand out to grope for the drawer, shoving a picture frame over and knocking his phone to the floor where it bounces somewhere under the bed. He snags the knob and somehow manages to retrieve a bottle of lube and a condom without dislocating his shoulder, although it does send him a warning twinge. 

He presses them to Cas’s chest. “Fuck me. Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up is [robotsnchicks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotsnchicks/works)! I'd say sorry for where I left off, but I'm not actually sorry at all. :deankiss:


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas enjoy their morning. Smut ahoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It is my turn up to bat and I hope you all enjoy the smut in store for you! Thank you to halzberry for looking at this for me.

Cas wastes no time in removing his clothes and Dean hastens to follow his example. Once they are both naked though, Cas just stares at him. 

Dean swallows, wondering if he was too forward, but before his anxiety can grow, Cas leans over and cups Dean's cheek with his palm, kissing Dean until he's breathless.

“I was just convincing myself that you’re real.” He presses his face to Dean's shoulder, letting Dean feel the smile framing the words.

When he pulls back his expression has turned hungry and he crawls down Dean's body, lithe as a cat. The sun shining through the blinds paints his skin in stripes and adds to the comparison as he coaxes Dean’s legs open and settles between them. He strokes the sensitive skin of Dean’s inner thighs as he nuzzles at the soft skin of Dean's stomach. When Cas slowly makes his way down and his breath ghosts over Dean's growing erection, Dean jerks helplessly. 

Cas smiles but continues his slow exploration, hands and lips moving ever so closer to their destination but at a snail's pace. When he reaches the hollow of Dean’s hip he sucks on the sensitive skin gently, while his fingers play over his shaft with barely-there caresses. 

It teases Dean to full hardness in no time but denies him the friction he craves. Right as he's on the edge of begging Cas gives him what he wants, wrapping his fingers around the base of Dean’s cock as he licks a slow wet path from base to tip. 

Dean fists the sheets in his hands, muttering, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” as he fights not to buck up.

Cas makes a smug noise and swallows Dean down, pausing only when his mouth hits the hand he still has wrapped around Dean's cock. He sets a slow pace and Dean lets out a shaky breath, willing muscles trembling with anticipation to relax. Cas feels incredible. His mouth all hot wet heat while his tongue traces patterns across Dean's cock. When a dry thumb rubs teasingly at his hole, Dean spreads his legs wider in invitation. 

Cas wastes no time in accepting, pulling back only long enough to slick his fingers with lube. Two fingers quickly return and rub at his hole, teasing his entrance maddeningly. 

Cas looks up at Dean and smiles, “You know, I meant what I said before.”

“Huh?” it isn't eloquent, but Dean’s incapable of words right now. Cas looks like every fantasy Dean's ever had brought to life—lips damp and red, eyes dark with want, thick hair ready to be tugged, and to top it all off the warmest of smiles on his mouth. He reaches down and runs his fingers through Cas’ hair, desperately hoping this isn't a one-time thing. 

Cas leans into the touch and says, “You really are the most beautiful man I've ever seen.”

Dean wants to protest but Cas doesn't give him a chance. His mouth slides down his length once again, this time swallowing him to the root, his throat fluttering around the head of Dean's cock. At almost the exact same time he slides a finger inside Dean in a fast motion that has Dean spitting profanities as he arches off the bed and fucks hard into Cas’ mouth. 

Cas just takes it, one hand gripping Dean's hip while the other continues to work him open. One finger becomes two and all the while he continues to suck on Dean's cock, letting Dean pull his hair and buck into his mouth as needed. It has Dean at the brink in minutes, and when Cas slides a third finger inside he's almost sobbing with how much he wants it.

“Now, please.” Dean just barely manages to gasp it out, but luckily Cas hears him. 

Cas pulls back and fumbles the condom on and then slides back into position, catching Dean's eyes as he braces himself over him. Dean takes a deep breath as Cas pushes in slowly. He rocks in just an inch at a time, as Dean moans beneath him, loving and hating how torturously slow Cas is moving.

Finally, he sinks all the way inside and both of them shudder. Cas rests his forehead against Dean's and breathes, “You’re amazing,” right into his ear.

Dean swallows his initial reaction, not wanting to ruin the moment by protesting. Instead, he presses a kiss to Cas’ sweaty brow. “Fuck me. Please.”

This time Cas doesn't make him wait. He snaps his hips forward and Dean throws his head back at the force, keening. Cas keeps the hard almost bruising rhythm up and a part of Dean preens at the proof that he isn't the only one nearly mad with lust.

Neither of them can last long as this fast of a pace and when one thrust drags Cas’ cock right over Dean's prostate he comes in thick stripes over both of their stomachs. 

Cas only lasts a few minutes longer, then he’s slamming into Dean with one last grinding push, murmuring words like “wonderful” and “gorgeous” and “perfect” into Dean’s hair. 

It feels Dean with a bubbling mix of embarrassment and pleasure and he hides his face in Cas’ shoulder as they both catch their breath. Cas is sweaty and heavy above him and Dean wishes they could stay this way all day. 

Eventually, though Cas rolls off of him and Dean sits up with a groan. He snags a rag out of his dresser and tosses it to Cas before grabbing a sock and cleaning up the mess on his own stomach. When he’s done he looks up and clears his throat awkwardly. “So…”

The confident sex god of a moment ago is gone as Cas avoids his eyes and parrots back, “So.”

Cas’ own nervousness seems to make Dean’s vanish. “How about you hop in the shower and I’ll join you after I get the coffee brewing?”

Cas’ smile is relieved and dazzling. “As you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up is maskofcognito! Make sure you turn in next Friday to see what is next!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, this week was super busy. But, I'm glad I was able to make it.  
> Thank you, [Destimushi](/users/destimushi) for helping me edit this chapter while I was drunk. Without further ado, the next chapter from Castiel's POV:

Castiel snuggles into the covers one last time while watching Dean get up and walk away, sans clothes. He grins, the afterglow washing over him as he stares at a now empty doorway.

Deciding a shower sounds good (and getting a head start would mean more time to admire Dean’s wet naked form) Castiel regrettably slides off the bed and shuffles to the en-suite bathroom.

The room fills with steam and Castiel moans as hot water hits his shoulders. He tilts his head back, the soothing stream slicking his bed head to his skull.

Shuffling and the sound of the shower curtain moving along the rod gives Dean away, and Castiel feels a pull at the corners of his mouth. He cracks an eye open and watches Dean admire his body.

“Are you gonna stand there all day?” His eyebrow hikes and he throws his arms over the slightly taller man’s shoulders. A quick peck on the lips and a short, small dance has Castiel reversing their positions under the showerhead. Castiel pushes at Dean’s chest to get him entirely under the water's spray.

“Want a small breakfast before we head out?” Dean scrubs suds into his short mane, eyes shut tight, grinning.

“We can.” Castiel nods even knowing it cannot be seen. He reaches around Dean, touching his hip for a moment, and grabs the body wash. He quickly lathers down before Dean could think about opening his eyes.

Castiel’s thoughts turn mischievous, and he uses his slick fingers to pull Dean from the stream.

“What did you have in mind?” Castiel casts a devilish glint in challenge when Dean finally looks to him. The expression Dean displays probably had more to do with Castiel’s hands gliding along any expanse of skin his hands and entire front could easily reach.

Dean moans, the sound intoxicating, and Castiel can feel a twitch of Dean’s cock against his own.

While he’d typically be all over a second round, Castiel knows it won’t distract Dean for long. And, honestly, he’d rather get the stupid restraining order spiel over with so he can have more fun with his date.

Dean pulls them both back beneath the stream. His lips press lightly against Castiel’s over and over again while the water washes away the bubbles from their skin.

 

After their shower, Dean lays out the bread and pulls eggs, butter, and cheese from the fridge. Castiel grabs a shallow pan from over the range and shuffles through the cabinets for spices. Their hips, arms, and hands linger when they accidentally—or purposefully at this point—get in each other’s way.

Instead of speaking, they chuckle at each other, moving together in sync with only a little stumbling here and there. Castiel hands Dean the butter in perfect slices and Dean adds them to the pan before toasting the bread and starting on the sunny side up eggs. Castiel sprinkles a little salt and more pepper on the eggs and disappears from Dean's side.

“Do you have avocado?” Castiel searches areas of the kitchen he would put the delicious fruit.

“Yeah, actually. There should be two in the crisper.”

Castiel plucks one from the fridge. He’d found a cutting board and a knife in his snooping and slides back in place, next to the stove, just as Dean plates the toast and eggs.

Castiel adds the avocado slices next to the toast and beams.

“Looks delicious.” Dean salivates a little. “Could have been better with bacon, but that would involve going back to the store.”

“Don’t people usually always have some on hand?” Castiel questions.

“Sure. Except when they are Dean Winchester. And then any bacon in the house gets eaten almost as soon as it enters the door.” He laughs, and it’s contagious.

“I’ll keep that in mind."

 

Later, Castiel follows Dean down the street, their shoulders brushing. “Did you choose living so close to the station for its convenience?”

“Partly. It’s a bit pricey—and it’s not nearly as nice as what I can get outside downtown—but it means I don’t have to risk my baby in all the hubbub of downtown traffic for work.”

Castiel hums as he thinks about the stories Dean has told him of his heirloomed Impala. They continue talking about potential road trips and places they both would like to visit while making their way to the station.

The station is bustling with activity. Dean looks around, and Castiel follows when he leads them to an empty desk. He’s confused. “I thought today was your day off?”

“It is.” Dean boots his computer up. “But if we want to be done here and go out and forget this all happened for the rest of the day, I should probably do this. Otherwise, it looks like we will be waiting around for at least half an hour.”

Castiel understands. It’s bad enough being stuck in a place you already don’t want to be, but to add the distasteful bit of why… Castiel shakes his head to forget as much of it as possible.

Dean’s monitor lights up, and he opens a program and begins filling out some information. “Just so you know, this is just one part of the process. We can fill out reports and get some of the paperwork ready, but eventually, we’ll need to go down to the court to get a judge to approve the restraining order. But after that, all you have to do is call us, and we can reinforce it. No questions asked.”

Castiel suddenly feels a little numb and baffled. He has to go to court for this? Isn't it enough that Dean’s dragged him to the station?

He has the small suspicion Dean left this part out to get him down to the station in the first place. He wants to be mad, but if the situation was reversed he might do the same, and he cannot bring himself to get angry.

Instead, he sighs and places a shaky hand on Dean’s. “I’ve never done any of this.”

Dean smiles, a little bittersweet. “Don’t worry, Cas. I’ll be with you the entire way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, it was a decent chapter and you enjoyed it. I wanted to share tidbits of domestic deancas and I think I succeeded. Tell me what you think about the chapter below and look forward to next week with another installment by the amazing [Destimushi](/users/destimushi)!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to life and stuff, two of our participants were not able to post, so here's the final round up in 2k words instead of the usual 1k! Hope this is the ending you were all looking for! 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who participated and made this such a fun experience. Also a huge thanks to everyone following along! Your constant feedback and support is always welcome <3\. 
> 
> The next round should be starting shortly so please stay tuned!

The court hearing was rough. 

Luke was calm. Too calm, but the look he shot Castiel when he got up to testify chilled him to the bone. Telling the judge all the things Luke did to him was bad enough, but to have Dean there—his face stony—was excruciating. If Castiel had known this was part of the process, he might not have filed for a restraining order. 

The sun beats down on them as Dean grips Castiel’s hand and pulls them through the throng of people. The testimony shook loose repressed memories, and Castiel is too wrung out, too raw around the edges to pay attention to where they’re going. 

It’s been two weeks since Dean filed the paperwork. Two weeks of anxiety and nightmares. It all came to a head this morning. He has the restraining order now, Luke is out of his life for good, and Dean will help him patch up the scrapes and cuts. 

The hubbub of the city reminds Castiel that he’s alive. That Dean is holding his hand and pulling them through the front door of a fancy building. Where are they? Castiel wants to ask, but Dean seems tense, closed off. Maybe after hearing about all the fucked up shit Luke did to him, that he let Luke do to him, Dean no longer wants him. After all, no one signs up for this much baggage when they jump into a relationship. 

The thought stabs through Castiel, and he pulls his hand from Dean’s just as they stop in front of the elevator. 

Dean jabs the up button, his expression unreadable. Why are they here? Is this the perfect spot to dump him? 

“Dean—” 

Dean shakes his head, his eyes hard, and Castiel swallows the rest of his words. The elevator doors slide open with a whisper, and they step into the mirrored interior without a word.

Numb from head to toe, Castiel regrets all over why he agreed to the stupid restraining order. He had it under control, mostly, and Luke was only in town for that one night. Castiel told him to get lost after Dean left, and Luke seemed to accept that Castiel has moved on. If only he’d kept his cool instead of running to Dean—

The elevator stops. Dean takes Castiel’s elbow and pulls him into...sunlight. Huh? 

Castiel squints, one hand shielding his eyes as he gapes. They’re standing in a garden in the sky. Trees—some pregnant with fruit—line the perimeter. To the left are rows of flowers, to the right various vegetables thrived in large rectangular planters. The air is crisp, and the sweet scent of flowers fills his senses. 

“What—where are we?” Castiel blurts. 

“My brother’s rooftop garden,” Dean replies, his voice tight. 

“He has a rooftop garden?”

“Rich ass lawyer got money to burn, I guess.”

Castiel spins to face Dean, his earlier feelings of dread coming back to grip his heart. “I—why are we—”

Dean grasps Castiel’s lapels and yanks him forward. Their lips crash, Castiel gasps, and before he fully processes what’s going on, Dean’s tongue sweeps past his lips. 

Kissing Dean is electrifying and all consuming, and Dean’s even more demanding now, his tongue licking, his teeth nipping. His hands roam up his neck and sink into his hair. 

Castiel loses himself in the overwhelming heat of Dean’s mouth, in the kiss that drags the very breath from his lungs. The rock in the pit of his stomach falls, replaced by a million fluttering butterflies. 

The garden is a hushed whisper of rustling leaves and buzzing insects. The trees shield them from prying eyes as they rediscover the taste of each other’s mouths. Dean pulls back, his lips glistening, his lust-blown eyes searching Castiel’s face. There’s something wild in the thinning green halos, something that steals Castiel’s breath as much as the kiss.        

“Never again,” Dean grits. 

“Never again what?” 

“No one will ever lay a hand on you like that again. No one. I will kill them. I’m licensed to kill, you know?” Dean drags shaking fingers through his hair. 

Castiel blinks, too shocked to say anything. Heat spreads from his chest and into the tips of his fingers and toes until his skin tingles. They’ve only known each other for a short while, but Castiel cannot imagine a life without Dean’s calloused fingers holding his own. 

“Dean, it’s fine. He’s gone,” Castiel murmurs against the corner of Dean’s mouth. 

“If I ever see that asshole again—”

“Dean”—Castiel cups Dean’s cheeks and stills his ranting with a kiss—“you’ll never see him again.” 

Dean stares at him, and Castiel finds himself reflected in the green of Dean’s brilliant eyes. A beat of silence passes between them, then Dean deflates and the corners of his lips twitch into a faint smile. He leans in and captures Castiel’s lips in another kiss. This time, it’s lazy, soft, as if Dean’s savouring this moment. “Cas, babe?” Dean whispers between each darting press of soft lips.

“Hm?” 

“I love you.” 

===

“You seem really happy these past few months,” Charlie says and shoves half a donut in her mouth. She takes the whole cops love donuts thing very seriously. 

Dean grins. “Yeah? Maybe I am.” It’s been three months since he sat in that courtroom. Three months since he declared his love for the man who occupies his every waking thought. Dean never expected to fall so hard for the weirdo leaving books all over the city, and yet here he is, smitten. 

He glances at the clock on the dashboard and anticipation quickens his pulse. Ten more minutes and they’re off the clock. Cas told him to come by after work, something about a surprise, and Dean loves surprises. 

“So when’re you bringing Cas to DnD?” Charlie rolls down the window and cool evening wind tousles her long, red hair. 

“When I know for sure you and Benny won’t scare him off,” Dean retorts. 

Charlie punches his arm and Dean winces. “I won’t scare him off. You wouldn’t even be with him without me!” 

Dean swats at Charlie’s hand. “Okay, okay—”

The radio crackles and Dean groans over dispatch’s distorted voice. Charlie picks up the receiver. 

“This is Officer Bradbury.” 

“We have a ten-sixteen at 1234 Main street...”

The rest of the message fades into a blurry buzz as Dean’s blood freezes. He pulls the squad car around, and the tires squeal as he burns down the busy street. 

Charlie turns on the siren, her face grim, her hand on the butt of her gun. “Dean? What’s wrong?”     

“That’s Cas’ address,” Dean grits as he takes a left turn into oncoming traffic. Cars pull off the road to give him access, and he nearly misses a van before he pulls back onto the right side of the road. 

“Christ, Dean,” Charlie shouts. “Watch where you’re going.”

Dean doesn’t respond as he focuses on the road, blood pounding in his ears as his mind plays one bad scenario after another until he’s mad with worry. He shakes his head and bites the inside of his cheek, trying to calm his jagged nerves as he books it to Cas’ house in record time. 

The squad car comes to a screeching halt, and Dean hops out before the dust settles. The crack of a gunshot thunders through the air and Dean freezes. Shit.

Charlie grabs her radio and squeezes the talk button. “Dispatch, this is Officer Bradbury, responding to the ten-sixteen on 1234 Main street. We have shots fired. Requesting backup immediately.” 

Dean doesn't wait for her as he rushes up the front porch—gun gripped tightly in both hands—and kicks in the front door. “Cas?” he shouts. No response. Fear clogs his throat. 

“This is the police!” Charlie’s voice startles Dean, and shame washes over him. He left his partner alone. Fuck. 

A loud crash from the living room yanks his attention back to the situation at hand. Another gunshot, and Dean rushes down the hallway with his gun raised and Charlie covering his six. When he turns the corner, Dean’s heart drops into his boots. 

Cas is standing by the far side of the room, one eye swollen shut and gripping a gun. There’s blood down the front of his t-shirt and a nasty ring of bruises around his neck. Laying a few feet away is Luke. He’s clutching his right thigh, and his fingers glisten with fresh blood. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Dean sees red, and Charlie’s hand on his shoulder is the only thing keeping him from smashing Luke’s face in. 

“Cassie and I had unfinished business—”

“You do not call him that. You do not call him anything,” Dean shouts and raises his gun, ignoring the hard squeeze from Charlie. “You’ve done enough.” 

Luke’s face splits in a nasty smile. “And what are you gonna do, shoot me?” 

“Don’t tempt me.” Dean pulls back the hammer, but movement in the corner of his eye stops him. It’s Cas.

Cas lays bloody fingers on Dean’s glock and points it to the floor. Fuck. Dean huffs the breath he didn’t know he held, and his body goes lax. Would he have shot Luke? Probably, and wouldn’t that just be a bloody mess. 

“Dean?” Cas tilts his head and frowns. 

“I’m okay.” Dean takes another deep breath and uncocks his gun. “I’m okay.” 

“You, sir, are in a boatload of trouble,” Charlie says, her voice sounding far away. 

She recites Luke his rights, but Dean’s not listening. He holsters his weapon and pries the heavy gun from Cas’ fingers. As soon as Cas lets go, his whole body crumples against Dean in an avalanche of limbs and torn clothes. 

Dean lowers Cas to the floor, and they sit huddled together until wailing sirens fill the air. Minutes later, flashing lights light up the dim living room, and everything moves around them in a blur as officers came and went. By the time Cas stops shaking, Luke is outside, a paramedic bandaging his leg. 

Dean rubs Cas’ back and kisses his cheek, careful to not touch any bruises, and says, “Hey, can you walk?” Cas nods, and together, they push onto shaky legs. “I’m sorry, but I need your statement. What the hell happened?” 

“He—there was a knock. I thought it was you and opened the door.” Cas takes a deep breath. “Then he barged in, telling me he still loves me and he wants me back and he’s changed and the next thing I know, we’re struggling and he’s got a gun...” 

Dean closes his eyes and holds the air in his lungs. Christ.

A breath shudders through Cas. “The rest is a bit hazy. I must have grabbed the gun and shot him. I don’t know what happened, Dean, god I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—I would have never opened the door—”

Dean grips the back of Cas’ neck and captures his lips in a tender kiss, stilling the frantic spill of nonsense. When he pulls back, Cas’ breathing calms down. “You did nothing wrong. It was self defence. I’m so proud of you.” They cling to each other, and the fierce surge of protectiveness in Dean’s chest threatens to burst from his skin. 

“Will they lock him away?” Cas whispers into the crock of Dean’s neck. 

Dean nods. “For a long fucking time, baby.” 

Cas pulls back and smiles, or tries to at least through a busted lip, but his expression is soft beneath the crusted blood. Something changes in Cas, in the way he stares at Luke through the window as Charlie shoves him into the back of a squad car. Gone is the darting glance, replaced by something fortified and fearless. 

“He will never hurt me again,” Cas says. It’s a soft declaration.

“Not if I can help it.” 

Cas turns his gaze back on Dean and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Not if we can help it.” 

Dean chuckles. “As you wish.” 

 

  

 


End file.
